


The Wavering Woods

by billiebongvilla



Series: The Wavering Woods Series [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Fog, Mist, Spooky Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiebongvilla/pseuds/billiebongvilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needing a place to escape, a young woman ventures into a forbidden forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Mist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyphette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyphette/gifts).



> This story started as a wee one shot but would not leave me alone :-) so I decided to run with it and now it's a series. Yay!  
> A spooky tale to celebrate Halloween. Enjoy! and Happy Halloween!

The chill seemed to reach the very marrow of her bones as she ran ceaselessly against the driving rain. Feeling the sting of the relentless torrent against her face, she lowered her head and stumbled to the small grove of trees on the edge of the woods.

The heavy smell of wet earth and musty trees filled her senses as she looked to the nearby forest. All the rumors and weak minded superstitions raced through her mind. Take heed when travelling near the Wavering Woods, evil dwells within. Children that play near the edge of the woods go missing and are never seen again. 

She shook her head and pulled her cloak tighter around her chest. Do the brave thing, she thought and darted purposefully across the small clearing into the Wavering Woods. 

The presence of the hanging mist within the trees was nearly palpable, more of a morose fog than a mist. Beneath the thick canopy, the rain that poured down in droves did not reach the forest floor. The young woman stood silently taking in her surroundings as the mist-like fog curled around her. She moved cautiously deeper into the woods waving her hand in front of her. 

The fog wavered but only for a moment. The wisps that returned to her felt like fingers exploring the contours of her face. The touch caused a shudder to rake down her spine and suddenly, she knew she was not alone. 

Stopping, she tried to peer through the fog. “H-hello?”she whispered, “Is someone there?” Her voice was raspy from lack of use and she barely recognized it. 

Deeper within the forest she heard footfalls moving towards her. Self preservation kicked in and she lowered herself to the ground. Running her fingers across the damp earth, she searched for anything that could be used as a weapon. Claiming a fallen branch in one hand, and attempting to clear the fog with the other, she moved to the nearest tree and listened.

She heard no more steps, but could still sense another’s presence. “Who-who’s there?” The shudder in her words angered her and she tried to maintain composure. “Show yourself, I am of no threat to you.”

“The branch in your hand would appear to prove otherwise.” The words seemed to come from nowhere, yet everywhere at once. A low confident tone laced with curiosity and wicked mirth.

Tossing the branch to the ground, she turned and pressed her back against the enormous tree. Waving her hands through the fog, she beckoned, “Do you live in these woods? Can you show me safe passage through them to the seaside villages?”

The fog wisped lightly under her chin and swirled around her lips. “Shh, one question at a time dearie. I do not live in these woods rather, these woods exist to sustain my interests. A, shall we say, copious place to conduct business.”

“Business? Who are-?”

“Ah ah ah, one question.” The woman could feel the insincerity in the voice and began to move from the tree. “Not…so…fast!” Suddenly the fog cleared and a shadowy figure appeared mere footsteps away. The mirth had gone from his voice, being replaced with warning, enough to cause her to remain still.

“You have questions, many questions, and you have not reached these woods out of sheer curiosity. No, your presence here is of need. Now, for each question I answer, you will answer one of mine. Do we have a deal?”

The woman was silent for a few brief moments. “Yes,” she whispered. What harm could come from answering questions?

“Good, let’s begin.” She stepped away from the tree and crouched to the ground. As she began to clear away a small section of damp earth, the fog returned. “No time for fire building,” a snap of his fingers and she was completely dry.

Staring quizzically at her clothes, she breathed “thank you,” and once again leaned on the tree. “Now for my second answer, can you show me safe passage through these woods?”

“Safe passage is no easy request dearie, many dangers could befall a heedless woman.” The words paused briefly, as if the shadowy figure was measuring her reaction, “…Or man for that matter. Do you know where you are lass?”

The question was presented with a cautious tone. “Of course, I am in the Wavering woods, in which dwells evil. Bringing me to my third question, how can a forest that houses evil and strikes fear be a copious place to find traders?”

“Traders, no, my business is far better served among desperate souls.” The fog directly in front of her face cleared, revealing a hooded creature with gold speckled skin and jagged teeth.  
The glint in the creatures inhuman eyes led the woman to believe he, rather it, was quite pleased with itself. 

“We can dispense with the theatrics, whoever or whatever you are. I am no heedless woman, and I will not play your games.” The creatures cheeky grin dissipated and his gaze became dark.

“My woods, my rules!” He growled from behind clenched teeth. “Choose your next words wisely.”

“My final question, who are you?”

The creature stepped back and summoned a torch from nowhere and with a flick of his wrist he set it ablaze. “I am the keeper of the Wavering Woods. I make deals with those who are in need, the lost, and the desperate. That is all you need know.” Holding the torch near his face, he leant as close to her as possible without touching. “My final question for you Lady Belle is,” her breath caught in her throat at the mention of her name, “Do you regret entering my woods?”

Immediately a cloud of warm purple smoke enveloped her and she felt as if she was falling. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to see that she was not falling, she was being suspended by the cloud of smoke. 

“Answer me!” His voice was commanding and full of power. “Answer me, would be princess!”

Feeling no draw to her former life, no regret for leaving it all behind, she answered with one quiet word, 

“No.”


	2. The Thread of Fear

Chapter Two: The Thread of Fear

Stumbling a bit as the cloud of purple smoke lowers her to the ground, Belle tries to right herself and peers into the fog. ”Who are you?” She askes in a low tone, “I mean your name, what is your name?”

High pitched giggling emanates from all around her. “Sorry dearie, for that there’s a price.” More giggling ensues.

“What do you want? What could you possibly want… from me? I have nothing.” The young woman holds her arms out to her sides to express her point.

“You possess more than you know.” He whispers as he creeps silently towards her. “What you have is far more valuable… more precious than any frivolous trinket.”

Belle whirls around sensing his approach from behind, but he is not there. Suddenly she feels an arm wrapping around her waist. Her breath catches in her throat and stills as he pulls her closer to him. “What you have is on the inside, my dear. You hide it well, nestled right about here.” He lightly presses a clawed finger to her chest and spins her around to face him.

“My- my heart?” she gasps and tries to back away. “You can’t – can’t have it.” Remembering all the stories she’s read of the dark art of ripping the still-beating hearts from the living, she places both of her hands over her chest.

Sensing her thoughts, the imp prances around her. “I don’t want to take what you possess, quite the contrary, I want you to offer it to me.” He stops and stares into her eyes, “and you will.”   
Seeing the look of utter shock on the woman’s face, he can’t help but to feel self assured.

“There is nothing anyone could offer me that would convince me to give up my heart. Not friends, loved ones or magical creatures intent on playing pointless games. Her demeanor had noticeably changed. He found himself, much to his surprise, more and more inclined to simply give her what she wanted. 

Losing the mask of his overly confident façade, the creature softened and lowered his head. Belle could now see him for what he was, merely a man. Twisted and controlled by something dark, but a man nonetheless. “What is so special about my heart?” she asked with a less harsh tone.  
“Well, it’s not the physical; it’s past that, deeper. It’s what your heart contains, what it conceals. “ He turns away from her and grits his teeth. Stop talking you fool, you’ll tell her everything.   
“You see, we can tell so much about a person if we take the time to look inside, see their inner most thoughts, desires and of course, their fears.” As he spoke the final word, he lurched forward and once again pressed his finger to her chest. The touch seemed to reach into her very soul and she crumpled to her knees before him.

She buried her face in her hands, “I fear nothing,” she whispers

“Oh, that’s not entirely true now is it dearie?” He slowly started to pull his finger away from her chest.

Looking down Belle uncovered her face and saw a shimmering gold thread. One end was attached to the end of his finger, the other to her chest. She watched with curiosity as the thread detached from her and the imp coiled it into his other hand. 

“Shall we see just what you truly fear my lady?” She sat gawping as the thread transformed into a shimmering scene in the palm of his hand. 

Tears filled her eyes as images of her mother flashed before her. “Mother,” she whispered, feeling her fear nearly palpable all around her. Knowing that this scene ended with her mother’s death, she turned away before it finished. “I – I can’t.” she murmured. 

“Fear of loss is a normal emotion my lady, it does not make you weak as you suppose. However, you have bottled up all emotion to hide that fear. That dearie, is why you have entered my woods, that, is what has ultimately sealed your fate.”

Clapping his hands together the images vanished and he gently placed the coiled thread into his waistcoat pocket. He reached his hand out and tilted Belle’s chin up to face him.

Before he can speak, she pulled away and jumped to her feet. “That thread is mine. You have to give me something for it.”

Aghast he spluttered a bit, having fully expected her to demand that he return the thread to her. Instead she had proposed a trade, a deal? What uh, what do you deem a fair price for your thread my lady?’

Two seemingly harmless simple words are sent tumbling out her mouth, “Your name.”

He wanted more than anything to simply shout the answer and fill her mind with thoughts of him. To hear her speak his name, to allow her this one request, but he waited. 

Shifting from foot to foot, he considered the weight of what she had asked. Could there be more to this request? Had she some evil scheme hidden behind those piercing blue eyes? Those eyes …eyes that if stared into for too long enough could pull all manner of truths from his lips. He turned away from her gaze and tried to think. She’s getting to you. How could you let her get under your skin? Just tell her your name and be done with it, done with her.

He turned to see her curious and intent gaze staring back at him. “Well,” she pressed, “do we have a deal?”

Slipping his hand inside his pocket, he considered for a moment just returning the thread. Moving his fingertips around the coil, he felt the spark of power and banished the thought. He leant close, nearly pressing his cheek to hers. Closing her eyes she waited with eager anticipation. 

“Rumpelstiltskin.’ He whispered. Feeling a warm brush of air, she opened her eyes and he is gone. Vanished, and with him the fog.


	3. Finding Shelter

Chapter Three: Finding Shelter 

The fog had not returned since she had learnt the creature’s name. Dim light shown through the thick canopy of leaves and branches above, allowing her to see deeper into the woods. Two days had passed since she entered these mysterious woods and she had yet to encounter another living soul. 

Belle trekked along the forest path by day, searching for suitable shelter, but had yet to find any. She took to spending her nights beneath whatever large tree or bush she could find. The light above was at it’s brightest, so she assumed it to be mid-day. 

As she walked, she scraped bark from trees to mark her path. In the silence of the woods, her thoughts began to wander. Thoughts of her family, the betrothal that she walked out on, her friends, but inevitably her thoughts always led back to him. Why had he left so abruptly? What was he hiding behind that strange golden speckled skin? Why had he kept the thread of her heart? All these questions, all these thoughts, had he bewitched her mind to be consumed by him?

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear her mind, she leant back against an enormous tree. Suddenly the tree trunk gave way and she fell through it thudding to the ground. Standing quickly, she brushed the remnants of bark and wood chips from her clothing and she found herself in pitch black inside the tree. Reaching out both hands, she felt around the darkness to find the place she had fallen through. 

Finding the opening, she cleared more bark and wood away, allowing a small amount of light to trickle in. Belle smiled widely as she took in the enormity of the hollowed out tree. “Perfect,” she whispered to herself and began digging through her satchel. 

Pulling out a dried piece of brush wood and two smooth stones, Belle struck the rocks several times and lit herself a torch. Seeing the space lit up, she knew this would be the perfect shelter from the cold nights to come, however many that may turn out to be.

Belle spent the rest of the daylight gathering provisions to sustain her through the night. After fashioning a makeshift bed from a blanket she carried and several bundles of leaves, she settled into her little hovel. 

Reading the lone book she had taken from her home, she began to drift in and out of sleep. Before she knew it, she was dreaming. Strange, intense dreams coursed through her mind as the wind bustled through the branches outside. She tossed restlessly until a loud crash of thunder pulled her instantly from the vivid pictures in her mind. 

Breathing heavily, she sat up and tried to remember where she was. As realization dawned, she fumbled around trying to rekindle the fire which had long since dwindled to embers.   
Watching the flames blaze, she sat listening. There were whispers on the wind, strange words in an unfamiliar tongue. 

Although she did not recognize the language or understand the words, she felt as though they were calling to her, beckoning her to come forth and follow them. She quickly gathered up her few possessions, threw on her cloak and headed out into the darkness. 

In her haste, she forgot to grab a torch. However, the mist had returned to the woods giving off an eerie glow and helping to carry the whispers to her ears. She continued on with fervor until suddenly the whispers stopped. She crouched in the silence waiting for someone or something to approach. Nothing. Furrowing her eyebrows, she peered into the mist. 

A voice, not audible or omnipresent, but inward, an echo of sorts filled her mind. A faint recollection of a past argument:

‘You will not leave this chamber until you come to your senses.’   
‘But Father, I do not love him.’  
‘Not another word!’

“Father?” she whispered into the fog, “what’s happening?”

The argument continued:

‘I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted. If you won’t listen to me, I’ll just… I’ll leave.’  
‘Then LEAVE!’

Those last two words lingered in her mind. How many times had she replayed those final moments with her father? A hundred, a thousand? Yet, here she was, alone, tired and confused in a thick dark forest with no idea how to get back to her hovel; let alone out of these woods. Did she even want to get out of these woods? They did provide everything she would need to survive. Everything except companionship, but she could live without that, couldn’t she?

Her thoughts once again drifted to him, that strange man she had met only three days past. Could he be a companion to her? Don’t be daft Belle, he’s a sorcerer, a wizard, not a silly boy. Still, she wondered about him. Wondered what it would sound like to speak his name, his very unusual name. She had not spoken the word since having learned it, and she wondered….

“Rumpel-stiltskin…” no puff of magic smoke, no dramatic flash of lightning or loud crack of thunder. Nothing. What had she expected? A great triumphant fan fare with talking animals and dancing gypsies? Suddenly she felt silly and started stomping around repeating his name in short little snippets.

“Rum-pel-stilt-skin Rum-pel-stilt-skin…”

Without a sound, she found herself face to face with the imp himself. Gasping, she stepped back giggling. “You… you’re here.” She muttered through her embarrassment. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed a sigh. “Well, I can’t very well have you going around spluttering my good name all over the forest now can I?”


	4. Walking

Chapter Four: Walking

What was it she felt upon seeing him again? Embarrassment? A little. Shock? Not really. Relief? Yes, that was it, well almost. She did feel oddly relieved, if not a bit confused, relieved that she had not imagined him, and relieved that he had not left her alone. Not completely. How then, how was she able to reach him simply by speaking his name?

All these questions needed answering, Belle was tired of this secrecy, tired of wondering in silence. The man with the answers was right in front of her. It was time to be bold, time to be brave. “How did you know I was ‘spluttering’ your name everywhere?”

He knew there were questions inside that pretty little head of hers; questions that, if not answered, would lead to more deals, more compromise. And when did he start labeling her head as ‘pretty’? This was getting out of hand. He was no man, no ordinary man with ordinary thoughts and feelings, he was a monster, and monsters didn’t entreat with beautiful would-be princesses. His tumultuous thoughts were beginning to show on his face and he knew he should leave. Belle moved closer and reached out towards him, a look of concern on her face. 

He quickly flinched away, “I’m expected elsewhere in the woods, I-,” 

“I’ll go with you,” she blurted out before he could just leave. “if- if that’s alright? I’d like to see more of your woods.” It was true, she did desire to explore, to see the world, or in this case, the depths of these woods. 

“Very well,” he said, “so long as you do not interfere with the work I must do.”

She nodded anxiously with a girlish grin on her face and laced her arm through his. The movement was swift and unthinking, almost an habitual act.

The sudden contact startled Rumpelstiltskin, but he did not pull away. Seeing this silly young woman on his arm was bewildering in itself, but with a smile on her face, not distress or terror?   
He was doomed. The very moment this woman stepped into his woods, he was utterly doomed.

They walked slowly, arm in arm, for a long while in silence. Belle was quite content to simply take in her surroundings until she remembered her enquiry that had gone unanswered. Clearing her throat and squeezing his arm playfully, she repeated her question. “So, you never answered, how did you know?”

She felt him stiffen and shutter a bit before answering. “Magic, of course.” A simple answer, but a truthful one nevertheless. 

“Of course,” she replied, “but how does it work? I was forbidden to read books on magic. In fact, our entire kingdom was forbidden. ‘Magic is for the weak’ he would say, but I think he feared it.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, “In a way, your Father is right. Magic tends to migrate towards desperate souls.”

“You… uh you don’t appear to be weak or desperate?” There was confusion in her tone and sincerity… always sincerity with this one. Choosing to ignore the question, he started walking again. “Are you a sorcerer or a wizard? Is there a difference? Can a person learn magic or is it something they are born with? Do you teach people the ways of it?” Feeling herself beginning to   
ramble, she stopped the next words from leaving her mouth by biting her bottom lip. 

Grateful for the silence, Rumpelstiltskin pressed on, thinking…planning. The deal he was about to make was a simple trade. A rare precious stone cut by an ancient dragon lord from a different realm in exchange for medicine for a dying child. Dull and mundane to say the least, but a rare jewel is a rare jewel. 

“Where are we going?” Belle asked after several long moments of blissful silence.

“To the hovel of an old craftsman near the west edge of the woods. My business has led me here on many occasions.”

“So, people do live in these woods?”

“If I allow it, yes.”

“Would you allow me to stay, until I can make other arrangements?” Once again ignoring her question, he moved off the path and ushered her behind a tree. 

“Wait here, I’ll only be a moment.”

She leant her back against the tree until curiosity got the better of her. Turning slowly, she peeked around the tree. Nestled within a grove of tall bushes sat a small wood cabin. Grey smoke billowed from the stone chimney as she watched Rumpelstiltskin approach the cabin. The door creaked open and a short chubby man dressed in red emerged. 

“Mr. Rampart.” Rumpelstiltskin greeted with a lavish bow.

“Stiltskin,” the man replied, “always a pleasure.”

“Yes, yes …enough with the pleasantries, I’m rather busy today. Have you my stone?”

“Aye,” the man replied and pulled a brown leather pouch from his apron pocket. Untying the drawstrings, the man dumped the stone into his own hand. “Is it to your liking my Lord?”

My Lord, Belle thought, is this strange man a King or Duke of some mysterious land? My Lord… she hoped she hadn’t treated him with any disrespect. Stilling her thoughts, she continued to listen to the exchange. 

The smooth pink stone began to glow dimly as Rumpelstiltskin drew nearer the man. “Yes,” was all he said, then with a flick of his wrist, the stone and leather pouch were gone. The man looked down at his hand and in place of the stone was a small clear vile containing a murky brown liquid. “Half today, half tomorrow and the child will mend.”

“A pleasure as always my Lord.” He turned back to his door then called over his shoulder, “oh, and uh, the missus thanks you as well.” Waving a dismissive hand at the man, Rumpelstiltskin turned away and headed back towards Belle.

He made his way back to her rather quickly and without thinking, he offered his arm to her. She took it immediately with a sweet smile and a giggle. Turning back the way they had come, they once again walked in comfortable silence. 

After a short distance, it was he, this time, who broke the silence. “So,” he said abruptly in his high pitched self-assured voice, nearly causing Belle to jump out of her skin. Chuckling inwardly he continued, “you wish to dwell in my woods?”

Belle looked up sheepishly at him and nodded. “If that’s alright? I have found a lovely hollowed out tree,” she stammered a bit, looking around, “somewhere, I’m sure I could find it again. I won’t be any bother to you.” She suddenly thought of the craftsman. He paid for his lot with stones and other such trinkets. She had nothing to offer in return for her tree. “Although… I do   
not know how I would pay for my lot.”

“You would choose to stay in a hollowed out tree in a mysterious forest, rather than return home to your Father and his wealth and shelter?”

Belle lowered her head and spoke to the ground. “There is nothing for me to go back to.”


	5. A Game

Chapter Five: A Game 

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin continued walking on slowly through the trees; neither one feeling the need to speak. Belle walked with her head down until they came to a stop. She looked up at her companion then followed his gaze to see that they had stopped in front of her tree. Smiling widely, she turned back to Rumpelstiltskin and beamed at him. 

“My tree!” she exclaimed, “does this mean I can stay?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and began to pace. “Hmm, well, being as how you have nowhere else to-,” she squealed and bounced on her toes until he held up a finger. “Now, it’s not something for nothing dearie, time to make a deal.”

Belle stood very still, waiting for him to continue, but he said nothing further. “A deal? What kind of a deal? You have already taken the thread of my heart, and you know I have no physical treasure… “

“This deal is more of a test, er um, a game if you will.”

“A game?”

“Yes, I provide you with a choice… two doors. Whichever door you choose, will determine how and what I collect as payment.”

“Doors hmm?” she muttered, “and whichever I choose will decide my fate?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What is the purpose of the doors then? I choose my path, my own fate, no one decides that but me. Why don’t you simply ask me which path I would choose?’ She was pacing with him now, trying to understand his train of thought. 

“Now, now, where’s the fun in that?” He chuckled and leant close to her, “Besides, it’s more your reaction I seek rather than the choice itself.”

Belle turned away from him and drummed her fingers on the hollow tree trunk, thinking. A game… what possible reaction could come from a simple game? “Deal!” she said abruptly and turned to shake on it. He was gone. In his place were two very different doors.

The door to her left was a large, dark brown wooden door adorned with a golden knock ring. The wood was inlayed with small rubies and sparkling crystals. As Belle stepped closer she could smell a faint lingering scent of hollyhocks, a flower native to her homeland. 

The door to her right was a simple door made of thin slatted wood. It’s appearance was rugged, if not a bit disheveled. The wood slats were held together with loosely woven straw and mortar of some sort. Beyond the door, she could see the faint glow of firelight and the scent of a robust tea met her nose. 

Belle stepped back from the doors and considered her options. More importantly, she considered what each choice could ultimately reveal about her. She stepped to the door on her left.   
Obviously a symbol of the life she’d left behind, the life she had lived as a child. She chose to walk away from that life, this door would only lead her to the place she currently stood. This door was a dungeon’s door leading to a marriage she did not want and a life sentence of misery and woe. 

Sidestepping, she closed her eyes and placed her hand lightly against the rugged door; trying to imagine what life lay behind it’s simplicity. A new beginning … a cozy fire with tea and biscuits… a good book, perhaps all of these things. Suddenly she can picture her whole future:

Two small children sit on the floor playing while she reads to them. A large kettle boils on the grate and the smell of baking bread fills her senses. A man sits near her at a spinning wheel, idly spinning while he listens to the story. Belle strains to see the man’s face but she cannot. Still, she smiles warmly at the vision she has conjured. When she opened her eyes, she found herself inside the cottage she had envisioned. 

Gasping with surprise, she turned and smiled at the sight of the rugged door. Was this to be her new home instead of the hollowed out tree? Did she pass Rumpelstiltskin’s test and this was her prize? Happiness flooded her entire being as she twirled around the floor with genuine approval. When she had twirled near the spinning wheel, she stopped and reached out her hand.   
Before her fingertips could touch the wheel, the beautiful scene dissolved away and she found herself once again in front of her tree. Her smile quickly faded as she pulled her cloak tighter around her chest. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to enter the tree. 

“Where are you going my dear?” A solemn voice came from behind her. 

She turned slowly and tried to wipe away the lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “To my home,” she replied.

Waving a caustic arm at the tree, “This?” he asked with a chuckle. “No, no my lady, you’ve shown your worth repeatedly these past few days, you’ll not be living as a vagabond.” 

Belle tried to choke back the tears that threatened her eyes, “but that’s what I am.”

Rumpelstiltskin wanted to tell her she was a queen. He wanted to reassure her and stop the tears he could see in her eyes. “You are more than that mistress, more than a queen.”


	6. The Prize

Chapter Six: The Prize

The tears that threatened began to stream down her cheeks and Belle turned her face away. “A queen? I’m not even a princess anymore, how could I ever be more than what I am?”

“Nobility is more than bloodlines and birth rights dearie. You have more purity of heart than a hundred born noble women.” 

“Your flattery is kind sir but, I’m afraid it’s sorely misplaced. I left my home for selfish reasons and in doing so have tainted my-.”

He stepped closer to her, ”tis no flattery.” Taking her arm, suddenly they were enveloped in a cloud of magic and Belle could not speak. When they landed she was about to ask where he had taken them but she did not need to. They were in the courtyard of her Father’s palace. Seeing the guards approaching, Belle gasped and tried to hide. “Worry not my dear, they cannot see us.” As he spoke, the guards walked straight passed them and on to the gardens. 

“Why have you brought me here? What is going on?” He let her wander and ramble until she came to her own conclusion. “Something is happening, something big.” Rumpelstiltskin turned   
her to face the procession. 

Under the archway of the garden stood a man dressed in white with the palace cleric standing next to him. “Who is that?” she whispered as she looked closer, gasping almost silently when she recognized him. “Gaston?” The bridal march began to play, Belle hesitated then turned to see a woman baring a striking resemblance to herself walking down the pathway towards Gaston. Belle watched in a daze as everyone bowed to the woman as she passed. When she reached the alter, Belle could see the man who had walked with the imposter… “Father… no, how can this be?” she breathed. 

As the cleric began to read the wedding scroll, Belle listened intently. “Do you Sir Gaston, Duke of the Isles, take Princess Belle to be your…”

Belle heard nothing after that except the thunderous beating of her shattered heart. “My Father,” she sobbed, “he… he has replaced me? He has replaced me.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, Rumpelstiltskin transported them from the Marchlands palace. However, they did not return to the hollow tree in the Wavering Woods. When Belle felt her feet on solid ground, she opened her eyes to find herself in a great wide open room. 

To her left was a grand hearth with a roaring fire on the grate. Next to the hearth was one high-backed chair with a small table next to it. On the table sat a ragged old book that appeared to be very well broken in. To her right was a huge mahogany table with a single chair placed at the head. Beyond the table there were tall glass doors behind which were shelves full of beautiful and strange treasures. She spun around with a lopsided grin on her face.

The grin faded to a gawping look of awe when her eyes beheld a huge ancient looking spinning wheel. The wheel was so beautifully crafted and well used that it nearly took her breath away. Suddenly she was lost in thoughts of the vision she had had of her life in the small cottage. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to face Rumpelstiltskin. His back was to her and she reached to touch his shoulder. “Is … is this your castle my Lord?”

He turned abruptly and startled her. “Yes, I… well, my magic built it many, many years ago.” 

“Why have you brought me here?” She whispered.

“I simply wanted to show you what it’s like to be alone. A life of solitude, the path you chose when you left your palace, is not suitable for someone like … you.” He turned away from her gaze and began fidgeting his hands. 

“How would you know what I’m like or what would suit me?” There was a gruff tone to her voice and she circled around to look at him. “I don’t even know what I want anymore. My entire kingdom turned their backs on me. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” She tried with all her might to hold back the tears, the last thing she wanted was to fall apart in front of this man who was little more than a stranger to her. “If that woman, that imposter is Princess Belle, then who … what does that make me?” She was shouting now and the tears were streaming down her face. It was no use, nothing could stop this storm. 

Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes were fixed on her, such raw genuine emotion was oh so rare in his life, he could nearly taste the power that surged from her sobs. His mouth fell slightly open and his tongue snaked out over his lips. 

“Why are you staring at me?” she cried and flung herself onto the fireside chair. “Say something… please.” The last word was merely a whisper, almost inaudible, yet it rang through his entire being. 

What did she expect him to say? What words could he possibly offer? This woman had, in one foul swoop, lost everything. There was nothing, no words that could possibly ease her suffering. “You are what you are my dear.” A simple truth, yet it seemed to strike a chord with her. 

“You’re right,” she replied, “I’d never felt like a part of life at court, not even when my mother still lived. I never dreamed of attending fancy balls or living in elaborate dwellings.” 

Moving seamlessly, he conjured a stool and sat across from her. Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, he produced a silk handkerchief and offered it to her. As she took the simple cloth from him, he crossed his arms on his lap. “Then what did you dream of my lady?” The question fell from his lips before he could think better of it. 

Her face was flush with heavy emotion as she dabbed at her eyes with the soft silk. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her sobbing. “You would laugh if I told you.” She scoffed and handed the cloth back to him.

Holding up a hand to deny the return, he shifted on his stool and placed one hand on each of his knees. “Try me.” He said and his voice was flat and straight forward.  
She looked up, seeing no sign of mockery, she cleared her throat. “Very well, I dreamed of adventures.” No laughter, no scorn, just a patient look of expectation. “I wished to visit distant   
lands, or other realms even. To be free… that was my dream.”

He began to feel uncomfortable in his seat. Such a strange girl and yet he found himself completely enchanted by her, hanging on every word as if they themselves were the air he breathed.   
“Go on,” he prompted.

“As a child I would sneak down from my chambers and chase the fireflies until I couldn’t see them in the breaking light of dawn. Secretly I wished to be one of them, to fly free and light up the lives of those who dreamed like I did. To be… to simply be.” She heaved a sigh and crumpled back into her seat. 

“Do you still wish to be a firefly?” The question held no mockery or mirth, it was as if he truly wished to know. 

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “actually, quite often, yes.” She looked quizzically at him, wondering what he was thinking. 

“Then a firefly you shall be.” He waved his right hand and a small vile appeared with a tiny scroll attached to it. Handing the items to her, he stood briefly then knealt down beside her chair.   
“Read the scroll carefully and if you agree, drink the potion.”

Belle slowly unrolled the tiny piece of parchment and began to read:

Once a Belle, a princess of sorts  
Replaced in hearts , in minds and courts

Seeking a life of freedom and peace  
Drink the potion and what was, will cease

As dazzling and free as a firefly   
As beautiful as the nighttime sky

One small sip, your new life will begin  
Lucciola your name, to be Belle never again

She read the scroll three times over then stared at Rumpelstiltskin. 

“Lucciola?”

“It means ‘firefly’ in a distant tongue.” He answered. 

A small smile crept over her lips. “Will I remember my old life?” He shook his head, “will I have new memories then?”

“Not new per se, you will have always been Lucciola, or Lucy if you like. You will be you still, your personality, your decisions, your mannerisms, still you. You, but Lucy.”

Belle thought for a moment then looked him straight in the eye. “And what do you desire in return?”

“A kiss.” He answered without hesitation.

“A fair price, “ she declared and tipped the vile to her lips. As soon as the liquid was drained he leant forward and pressed his lips to hers. Purple smoke enveloped them and when all had   
cleared, they found themselves in a quaint little cottage within the Wavering woods.

Lucciola sat reading as her husband Rumple was spinning at the great wheel. Two children giggled and played as they listened to their mother read stories of the far off places she’d been. It was in that moment she realized that she had never in her life been as happy, as at peace or as in love than at this very moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story #2 will be coming soon. Hope you are enjoying it so far! :)


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